The Thing About Trouble (Crystal Lake 1)

“I know. I’m real sorry.”

She shrugged, and he couldn’t help but notice her bony little shoulders. “Gammy said she was sick and that now she’s in heaven with the angels.” Her eyes widened. “Gammy said that she’s my angel now and will always watch over me. I think she’s the prettiest angel in heaven.”

He nodded, unable to form words, and led the little girl to the long harvest t

able that took up most of the space in his dining area. He grabbed the burger and fries from the kitchen counter along with a plate. He reheated the food and set it in front of her, then filled a tall glass with the last of the milk.

His own hunger long gone, Cam cracked open a beer for himself and sat at the island in the kitchen. He watched a hungry little girl devour the food on his table and wondered what was going through her mind. She was probably scared. Hell, he would be if it were him. She didn’t say a word when she was finished, and after a few moments, he realized she was asleep. Her little head had fallen forward, her chin nearly on her chest. She still had a few fries in her hand, and the other clutched the stuffed animal. Her one pigtail had finally given way, and the one side of her head was a mass of springy curls that fell past her shoulder.

She looked so small at the big table.

It was the saddest thing he’d ever seen.

2

Blue gazed out the window of the master bedroom, aware that the view was beautiful, exclusive, and for ninety percent of the population, totally unattainable. It should have given her a sense of contentment, a shot of joy and happiness—even wonder. Yet she felt nothing as she rose and padded on bare feet out to the balcony. She supposed that realizing this counted for something. She wasn’t that far gone. Yet.

With a sigh, she leaned on the railing and watched a vibrant cardinal feed from one of the bird feeders near the dock, where a boathouse housed two Sea-Doo and an eight-passenger cabin cruiser. Above the boathouse was an apartment that sat empty. A slight breeze stirred the top of the water, creating small whitecaps that rose up and then disappeared as they rolled onto shore. Five years ago, she would have been over the moon to be standing on this balcony, looking out over this lake. As it was, this life she’d chosen was one that brought her no joy. Not since David had passed, anyway. Her apathy clouded the beauty in front of her. How could a person rejoice in the kaleidoscope of color—the wildflowers that bordered her property, the deep green forests that fell from the mountains down to the crystal blue lake—when inside, the only color that made up every cell of her body was a dull clay gray?

She stretched, a long lithe strand of muscle and delicacy, honed from years of ballet, and, well, the Vegas strip, before whirling around and gliding back to her bedroom. It was early, barely past six in the morning, and her white puffball of a cat, Giselle, followed her down the grand staircase, meowing steadily until they reached the gleaming kitchen. The tile floors were cold on her feet, and she shivered slightly. Once the cat’s food bowl was full, Blue grabbed a premade yogurt with berries and granola from the fridge, and slid onto a seat at the granite island to eat.

She looked around with disinterest. The ultra-modern kitchen gleamed with stainless steel appliances, white cupboards, and lots of glass. There was enough white granite to make Fred Flintstone proud. Blue swung around on her chair. This space was filled with the latest, most expensive gadgets. Appliances hooked up to her phone so she could command them to do her bidding at the touch of a finger. Everything was state-of-the-art. Built to make life easy. Built to make room for more time spent with family.

Since she lived here alone, what was the point of it all? The only folks who stepped foot inside her home were Dani, the maid, and Mason, the kid she’d hired to cut her grass. After the way she’d behaved the day before, she wouldn’t be surprised if Cam Booker decided to pass on the outdoor project altogether.

She’d acted like a spoiled rotten arrogant bitch, and her cheeks burned just thinking of how dismissive and bossy and privileged she’d been. And though it was a weak excuse at best, the only thing she could come up with was the fact that her late husband’s son, Edward, had dropped by unannounced, and that was never a good thing. The man despised her and was always threatening some new legal action in a bid to challenge David’s will. It was exhausting.

Feeling as blue as her name, she jumped to her feet, suddenly full of restless energy. An hour and a half in the customized gym did nothing to take the edge off, and by eight o’clock, she was climbing the walls of her million-dollar prison.

She quickly showered and, not bothering with makeup, pulled her long blonde hair up into a ponytail, then dug through one of the drawers in her walk-in closet. It was the one tucked away in the far corner—the one that held a lot of her past. She found a white T-shirt with The Rolling Stones’ logo emblazoned across the chest, and a pair of old Levi cut-offs. They still fit perfectly, and her long, manicured nails grazed the soft, worn fabric.

Blue was so far from the girl she used to be, even if she wanted to, she doubted she’d ever be able to find her way back. A sudden yearning rose up in her, and she looked into the mirror above the customized vanity. Without the carefully applied makeup she favored these days, or the perfectly sculpted hair and expensive clothes, she looked the same as that girl from her past. She touched her freshly scrubbed cheek, and a wistful smile crept over her features. The girl who used to wear these clothes didn’t exist anymore.

“Stop being so damn melodramatic,” she whispered to herself. Jumping to her feet, she headed back downstairs. After making sure Giselle had lots of fresh water (she didn’t top up the food bowl because Giselle was on the tubby side), she headed to the garage. Not the large six-car monstrosity across from the circular drive that housed cars worth more than a lot of homes in town, but the two-car garage attached to the house. Parked inside here was the sleek Mercedes she usually drove and an old, beat-up Honda Civic.

It was the first “adult” purchase she’d ever made—bought it from another dancer her first month in Vegas—and it was a reminder of her humble roots. The paint was chipped, there were several dents that had started to rust, and the dove-gray cloth interior had seen better days. The mileage was sky high, but it was still great on gas and her mechanic kept it in working order. He’d been bugging her to let him take it to a body shop, but she liked it just as it was.

Blue smiled as she hopped inside and eyed the stick shift with a smile. Automatic transmission was so overrated. She opened the sunroof, backed out of her garage, and headed down the driveway. She had no idea where she was going, but eventually found herself circling the entire lake and coming back to the small town of Crystal Lake. She drove aimlessly for a bit and, as the tension along her shoulders gave way and loosened, decided to do something she hadn’t done in ages. She found a spot to park along the small river that ran through the town and hopped out before she could change her mind.

Blue had a credit card in her front pocket, cash in her back, and sunglasses to shield her eyes. The sun was shining, the warm breeze was just enough to take the edge off the heat, and she stepped lightly as she followed a manicured path along the river.

The entire waterfront had been redone in the last few years with extensive repaving of the bike trails, up-to-date landscaping on the generous amount of greenspace, a boardwalk with boutiques and eateries, and a brand-new playpark. Blue knew this because she’d donated considerable funds to the projects, not because she’d ever been down here.

Already families were setting up for a day of picnics and fun, and she didn’t blame them one bit. It was lush and green and perfect. A group of young men, probably age eighteen or so, looked her way as she approached. They were about to cross the bike path with a kayak and made no effort to hide their interest as she walked by. One of them waved at her, and she smiled to herself but kept going.

Up ahead, she spied the boardwalk and detoured from the paved path to window-shop. She was impressed with the quality of boutiques and eventually found herself inside a quaint store called Bella & Hooch. It smelled like heaven and was filled with a wonderfully eclectic assortment of décor items. Among them were handmade pottery and art. Soft woven blankets and one-of-a-kind candles. Unique frames and pillows and throws.

She picked up a small piece of driftwood that had been carved out and filled with wax. The scent was lovely.

“That’s one of my favorite pieces.” A young woman smiled at Blue from behind a stack of vintage crates filled with art. A pretty girl, she was a bit of a bohemian, with a flowing moss-green-and-yellow sundress and long auburn hair that fell in soft waves to her waist. Freckles adorned the bridge of her nose, and a wide, welcoming smile made Blue at ease. Her eyes were a deep green fringed by long lashes, and a scar was barely visible along her right cheek. It ran upward and disappeared beneath her hairline.

“I love it,” Blue responded. She moved toward the sales counter and placed it there before taking her time to explore the rest of the store. Several customers came in, and all seemed to know the young woman—Poppy was her name. They stared at Blue, but it was more curiosity than anything else.

She picked out a few essential oils and returned to the front of the store to grab a soft gray-and-white throw.

“I’ll take these,” Blue said, adding to the candle.

“Those are our best sellers,” Poppy said, taking the essential oils from her. “Are you new in town, just passing through, or a vacationer?” At the look of surprise on Blue’s face, Poppy smiled. “I know pretty much everyone in Crystal Lake, and I don’t recognize you.” Her face fell a bit. “I hope you don’t find that creepy?”